


without a breath to catch

by scoups_ahoy



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Parents, Angst, Arguing, Established Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Hate Sex, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kid Boo Seungkwan, Kid Lee Chan | Dino, Kid Lee Jihoon | Woozi, M/M, Relationship Problems, Rough Sex, Trouble In Paradise, and another ship but it'll be a bit spoilery down the road, and there will be minor seoksoo, college student mingyu, i mean no spoilers but..., i mean that it's gonna be really rough oof, jc are not exactly happy, kid!verkwan are precious, or does it?, possible infidelity?, to say the least, yeaahhh....
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoups_ahoy/pseuds/scoups_ahoy
Summary: Seungcheol and Jeonghan got married young and madly in love, after their first year of college.  Now three kids and almost twelve years later, they're not happy.  Stresses at work and raising three young boys have placed strains on themselves and their marriage to the point where they find their relationship a cracking shell of what it used to be.  They blame each other - Seungcheol doesn't try anymore or Jeonghan is too apathetic to Seungcheol's work stresses, etc.And then the new semester starts and Jeonghan gets a teacher's aide.  Surprisingly, Kim Mingyu reminds him so much of the Seungcheol he fell in love with all those years ago, and maybe it's because of that Jeonghan finds himself catching feelings.  Or maybe it's because Mingyu makes him feel young and wanted again.The way Seungcheol used to.
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Yoon Jeonghan, Kim Mingyu/Yoon Jeonghan, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 152





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i'm back with more angst lmao. i've had this in my head for months and i'm so excited to finally be writing it!
> 
> fair warning jeongcheol aren't exactly nice to each other in this; they're gonna argue and fight /a lot/. it's nothing too bad (nothing physical/abusive/manipulative or anything like that). just a lot of snarky comments and attitude so prepare yourselves. i'm sorry lmao. i tried to make up for it with cute kid antics tho.
> 
> also there may or may not be infidelity down the road. i won't say for sure because of spoilers. but keep that in mind if you're not a fan of it.
> 
> enjoy (as much as you can with this kind of plot lmao)! <3

**one.**

In his nightmares, Jeonghan is always running. Running from what, he has no idea; he’s just _running._ Sometimes he’s running through the streets outside the home in Itaewon. Sometimes he’s running through the fields in Hwaseong, watching his childhood pass him by. Sometimes he’s running through the university buildings. And in all of these dreams, he’s surrounded by people. Acquaintances, complete strangers, his students, faculty members - they’re all there, watching as he runs from nothing, towards nothing. Seungcheol’s always there too. Sometimes he tries to help, tries to get Jeonghan to stop running. Sometimes he just stands and watches with a blank face, just like everyone else. And sometimes, like this time, he laughs. It’s cruel laughter, a harsh sound completely devoid of humor that Jeonghan’s never heard from him in real life. But he hears it, more often than he can count, in his dreams. Generally, it’s one of the things that will haunt him when he wakes up.

In his nightmare, Jeonghan is running through the throngs of students gathered at the university. No matter how far he goes, how fast he goes, he can’t seem to escape campus. Can’t seem to escape the blank stares of a bunch of young twenty-somethings. Can’t seem to escape the sound of Seungcheol’s heartless laughter as it echoes like Jeonghan’s stuck in a glass bowl. Like a fish. And he can’t breathe, can’t stop the fire licking at his lungs, beneath his skin. Can’t _stop running_ no matter how badly he wants to.

A few hundred feet away stands a familiar figure. He’s alone yet surrounded by people on all sides. And the closer Jeonghan gets, the more of this man he sees. His hair is long, sleek, and blonde - the way Jeonghan’s was in college. He swims in his boyfriend’s black hoodie - the way Jeonghan did in college. He clutches his books with light in his eyes, offers Jeonghan a familiar, chip-toothed smile when he runs past. And only then does Jeonghan wake up.

His heart is pounding, ears are ringing, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath; his skin is slick with a cold sweat and he can feel it dampening the sheets beneath him. Christ, it feels like he really did just run for miles without end - down to the churning in his stomach, too. Gripping the blankets he takes a breath and then another and another until everything starts to calm down. And then he lays back against the pillow and takes stock of the area around him.

The soft, pale light shining through the cracks in the window curtains tells him it must be near dawn. Which means Seungcheol’s alarm will go off soon. Which means it’ll be time to get the kids up and ready for school… which means the first day of the new semester will be starting soon. Jeonghan sighs as the familiar anxiety starts creeping its way back into his system; the way it tugs at his stomach, tightens his lungs. But he breathes through it, just like the doctor taught him, and when he’s calmed back down he looks at the lump in the bed beside him.

Seungcheol’s always looked so handsome in sleep; long lashes brushing his soft cheeks, mouth hanging open just a bit, always curled up on his side. Facing Jeonghan. His hair’s getting long and it falls into his closed eyes, just tempting Jeonghan to brush it away and off his forehead. But he doesn’t because he knows it’ll wake Cheol up and Jeonghan doesn’t really want to deal with his husband right now. So instead he gets up on shaky legs to retrieve his laptop from the desk across the room and bring it back to bed.

Like he hasn’t already done five times in the last twenty-fours, Jeonghan reads over his lesson plans for the day’s classes. Everything is perfect, down to the mechanics; no spelling or grammatical errors, all the links and videos are good and up to date. He even presented some of it last night to the kids and it had promptly put Chan and Seungkwan to sleep, while Jihoon pretended like he didn’t give a shit. Which meant that it’s good for the freshmen that will be seeing it later today. Reading over everything again helps calm his nerves that much more and he’s finally able to properly breathe since waking up. Until he hears a soft noise from beside him.

Seungcheol stretches with a deep groan, sleepy eyes meeting Jeonghan’s in the dim light from the laptop. And even in said dim light, Jeonghan can see the dark circles that rest under his eyes, the exhausted droop of his lids, the acne gathering along his chin and jaw that Jeonghan keeps telling him he could cover up with his stubble if he just grew it out. His husband is _tired,_ Jeonghan knows that without even looking at him, and for a moment he feels bad that he probably woke Seungcheol up.

But only for a moment. Because then Seungcheol opens his mouth and Jeonghan fights the urge to roll his eyes.

“Jeonghan?” he croaks as he sits up on one arm. Those sad, tired eyes roam critically over the laptop. “What are you _doing?_ I still have…” he checks the digital clock on the bedside table and groans. “An hour and a half. Fuck. What the hell?”

It’s what Jeonghan should’ve expected - truthfully, what he _did_ expect. Seungcheol’s hardly a morning person, especially lately, but Jeonghan doesn’t have the capacity to care right now. So he just huffs. “Good morning, Seungcheol. I’m fine, thanks for asking. Definitely not awake at five a.m. because I had a stress nightmare ahead of the first day of classes.”

There’s a quiet moment, Seungcheol’s half-lidded eyes on him, where Jeonghan thinks he might get a shred of pity from his husband. It’s happened before when Cheol’s been in worse moods so, really, it’s not entirely out of the question. But then Seungcheol scoffs and any hope Jeonghan had for comfort leaves as quickly as it came, leaving him feeling empty and even worse than he did two minutes ago.

“Whatever.”

And with that Seungcheol climbs out of bed, stomping across their room to the bathroom like a big man-child. Jeonghan tries to refocus on his lesson plans, clicking through the end of the Intro to Korean Linguistics slideshow once more, but none of it registers. He’s so _tired,_ and he knows that’s one reason why he has no patience for Seungcheol’s attitude. But what else is new? A few moments later he hears the hiss of the shower, the rumble of their old water heater, and he gets up with a heavy sigh.

May as well start his day.

He dresses in something stylish yet comfortable, perfect for the first day of classes: a long-sleeved green and black striped shirt and black pants tugged down over black boots. It makes him look like a student himself (one reason why he likes it) and he takes a moment to examine himself in the full-length mirror resting in the corner of the bedroom. Honestly, he doesn’t look bad for thirty-two. Years of careful skincare, even after three kids, has left his skin relatively wrinkle-free to the point where he doesn’t feel the need to wear makeup anymore, like he did in his early twenties. He’ll definitely have to comb through his hair later, maybe style it a bit, but it looks good falling into his eyes like this.

He remembers when he cut it for the first time in his and Cheol’s relationship, a cute bob he’d dyed back to his natural black, and Seungcheol had spent hours ogling over it, petting it, stroking it, tangling it up just so he could brush it out. Telling Jeonghan over and over again how beautiful he looked with it. That’d been, shit, almost ten years ago. For their first wedding anniversary.

Jeonghan sighs, turning away from the mirror.

He knows he’s handsome, even if Seungcheol doesn’t really say it much anymore. Not that he _needs_ him to, just… it’d be nice.

After that, he makes his way quietly down the stairs, careful not to wake the kids early too, and then he takes up residence in the kitchen. First he’ll make breakfast and then he’ll pack lunches and then he’ll get the kids up and then Seungcheol will leave with Jihoon and then he’ll take Chan and Seungkwan to school and then…

God.

Really, it’s not fair how easily anxiety settles in his bones and he tries to shake it off, humming softly as a means of distracting himself. He’s also supposed to get a TA this year, finally, a kid he’s never met by the name of Kim Mingyu. And hopefully this Mingyu will be able to help lessen some of his stress. He can dump all the stupid homework he doesn’t want to grade on him, maybe. Or is that mean? Hell, he’s the one that signed up to be a TA. He should be expecting something like that, right?

As he usually does when he’s left to his own devices, Jeonghan gets in his head as he works and he’s so deep in thought he doesn’t notice Seungcheol’s presence until he’s right next to him. Really, Jeonghan smells him first before he sees him. Because in the eleven years they’ve been married Seungcheol has never changed to a different shampoo - shit, he was even using it in high school - and for a moment Jeonghan’s graced with nostalgic memories of sleepy kisses, running fingers through Cheol’s still damp hair until the kids got up. And then he sees Seungcheol frowning grumpily at the empty coffee pot and without hesitation Jeonghan’s mood drops again because _what now?_ What else does Seungcheol have to be mad at him for?

It’s always something lately.

“You didn’t start any coffee.”

Jeonghan sighs heavily, refusing to even look at him now. “I’m a little busy, _like usual,_ with breakfast and lunches, Seungcheol. But you have two hands. Make it yourself.” He moves toward the shelf pressed against a wall of their kitchen, searching for the lunch boxes the boys were supposed to have put back after cleaning them yesterday. _Supposed to_ being the key phrase there. “Besides, you know I quit coffee last month.”

Seungcheol snorts but Jeonghan hears him messing with the coffee maker nonetheless, opening the bag of grounds they keep beside it. “Yeah? Was that about the same time you quit drinking, too?”

It’s a cruel remark and it finds its spot in Jeonghan’s heart, reminding him too much of dream Seungcheol’s humorless laughter. He whirls on him, the kids’ lunchboxes in his grip, more than ready to give Seungcheol hell for being such an asshole. But he’s interrupted by little bare feet padding on the linoleum floor.

Chan shuffles out into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes sleepily, and any anger Jeonghan feels immediately melts the moment he sees his youngest son. With a cooing sound he can’t help he sets the lunchboxes on the counter and reaches for the six-year-old, who reaches back. Chan immediately buries his face in Jeonghan’s neck, curling up in a ball in his arms. Even at six, he’s starting to get too heavy to be picked up, but his love for his sons and their love for him is one of the sweetest constants in his life so Jeonghan will keep carrying Chan until doing so breaks his back.

“Baby,” he murmurs, feeling Seungcheol’s eyes on him, “what are you doing awake so early? What’s wrong, baby?”

“Sick, appa,” Chan whispers, fists curling in Jeonghan’s sweater, and immediately Jeonghan feels for a fever, checks for pale skin. Nothing. “I can’t go to school today.”

Ah. Jeonghan smiles to himself, rubbing Chan’s back. Of course. He shifts Chan a bit so he can free up one of his arms to continue breakfast and lunch. “Really? You were fine last night, sweetheart. You ran around screaming with your hyungs, remember?”

“That was last night, appa,” he argues, reminding Jeonghan too much of himself. Chan would spend hours arguing the sky was purple if either his parents or his hyungs said it was blue. Sometimes it’s endearing, but most times, like this morning with his patience already wearing thin thanks to Seungcheol, it makes him a little crazy because he just wants at least _one_ calm morning.

“Channie,” Seungcheol says softly after the gentle _clack_ of his mug on the counter. It’s his singsong voice, the one he uses on the boys when they’re pouting or throwing a fit.

Knowing it well, Chan burrows deeper into Jeonghan, shaking his head. “Appa, no. I don’t wanna go.”

“Why not?” he asks as he approaches them. His eyes aren’t quite ice-cold, not like they are when he looks at Jeonghan, but the warmth that’s there is a shadow of what it used to be and Jeonghan sighs a bit. At least it’s something, and he gently transfers Chan into his strong arms. Tries not to look at the way Cheol’s biceps flex through the material of his white button-down. But if Seungcheol notices he doesn’t react; his focus is all on their son. “Are you worried about school, baby?”

While they talk Jeonghan finishes up all the food and then it’s nearing six-thirty. Time for Jihoon and Seungkwan to be up. Cheol’s still busy with their youngest so Jeonghan washes his hands and heads down the hall to their rooms. Seungkwan’s is first and Jeonghan opens the door quietly, taking care to step _over_ the mess on the floor, not directly on it, like he’s done in the past. But hey, what better way to wake his middle son than with a few muffled curses behind his teeth? Sighing gently, he kneels beside Seungkwan’s bed and strokes his dark hair from his face until his eyes flutter open.

He greets Jeonghan with a wide smile, showing off all his teeth (some baby, some adult!), and then he scrambles up in bed.

At least someone’s excited for school.

“Good morning, appa,” he says with a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek, and Jeonghan’s so glad that eight years old and starting grade one isn’t too old to still give his appa kisses.

“Good morning, Kwannie,” he responds with a ruffle to his soft hair. “Do you need help getting dressed today?”

That’s been _a thing_ lately: Seungkwan insisting he can dress himself now, only for Jeonghan to fix what he’s put on backwards or inside out. Sometimes both. But Seungkwan’s always so _happy_ doing it, so thrilled with that little bit of independence that Jeonghan gives him. So he keeps doing it.

“Nope!” Seungkwan chirps as expected, and a moment later he’s shooing Jeonghan out of his room. “I can do it right this time, appa, I promise! Go, I wanna surprise you!”

Despite himself Jeonghan laughs as he’s all but shoved out of his kid’s room, and then he’s faced with Jihoon’s closed door. Jihoon is _definitely_ the most difficult child to get up and out of bed, but Jeonghan gets it. He’s thirteen, in his first year of middle school, and that’s hard for anyone to wake up for. So Jeonghan enters quietly, grateful Jihoon keeps his floor relatively mess clean, and then he’s kneeling by his bed. He wakes Jihoon up with soft strokes to his hair too, until his son blinks at him with sleepy eyes.

“Good morning, Ji,” Jeonghan murmurs.

Jihoon sighs heavily, turning onto his side so he can see Jeonghan better. “Appa… do I have to go today?”

“If I have to, you do too.” He leans in for a forehead kiss nonetheless. “Besides, Channie’s already tried that. Says he’s ‘sick’.”

He snorts at this, a soft smile touching his lips. “He tries that every Monday.”

Jeonghan grins, giving in to the urge to poke one of his son’s dimples. “Who’s he get it from, I wonder?”

Jihoon makes a face but sits up regardless, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. And after a few more strokes to his dark hair (“Appa quit, you’re _embarrassing”)_ Jeonghan eventually leaves Jihoon’s room too. So now all the kids are up and getting ready, breakfast is cooling and waiting to be eaten and - 

“Come on, Channie, can you please stand still?”

Jeonghan leans against the open doorframe to Chan’s room and he can’t help the small smile that touches his lips as he watches Seungcheol attempt to dress their youngest. But, stubborn like he always is, Chan bounces around the room in nothing but underwear. Really, his manic energy has been a surprise to them both, ever since they met him at the orphanage. Yet, out of the two of them, Seungcheol is the best equipped to deal with him when he’s like this. He’s a natural father, scooping Chan up as he jumps on his bed, blowing on his tummy to get him to laugh. And _does_ he. His laughter, loud and shrieking, echoes off the walls and in between giggles he begs, “Appa, stop!”

Seungcheol looks up at him and boops his little nose. “Then behave, baby. Okay? I know you don’t wanna go to school but you need to.” He sighs softly. “I don’t want to go to work either but I will because you like living here, right? And you love all your toys and dance class, right?”

Chan nods, catching his breath from the tickle assault. “But appa…”

“Just like it’s my responsibility to go to work and provide for you and your hyungs, it’s your responsibility to go to school and learn.”

His cute little face twists up in confusion as he tries to make sense of Cheol’s words, and Jeonghan grins to himself. “Re - reponstabilty?”

Seungcheol smiles and kisses Chan’s forehead. “Responsibility,” he says slower and Chan tries again, hitting the correct number of syllables this time. “Means doing something you have to do.”

“Oh. And it’s a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing, Channie. It’ll make your appas and hyungs very proud of you.”

Chan nods at this, very resolutely and grown up, and Jeonghan smiles. “Okay, appa. Then I’ll do my responsibility and go to school.”

There’s an amused lilt to Seungcheol’s grin. “Good job, baby. Now can we get dressed?”

Once again, Chan nods.

_Thank God._

Breakfast is eaten quickly, with Seungkwan filling the silence with chatter about what he hopes his day holds. And really, Jeonghan tries his best to listen, tries his best to be happy for his son and bask in his warm positivity, but the closer it gets to nine-thirty the foggier his mind gets. The harder it is for him to concentrate on anything but work. And then the time comes for Seungcheol and Jihoon to go, and Jeonghan walks them to the door as Kwan and Chan grab their own bags.

Jihoon’s already off towards Seungcheol’s car without so much as an “I love you, appa” and Jeonghan sighs as he stands in the doorway with Seungcheol. Butterflies swirl in his stomach but not the lovey-dovey kind. The awkward kind. The embarrassed kind. This is the closest they’ve been in weeks and a goodbye kiss is in order yet it seems almost… weird. They’ve been married for almost twelve years and - and the man Jeonghan’s standing next to feels more like a stranger than his husband.

When he glances at Seungcheol, sometimes he _looks_ like a stranger too, with the ice in his eyes.

“What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?” Jeonghan asks quietly as Seungcheol faces him.

“I don’t know. Late.”

Jeonghan sighs. _As always._ “Okay well I’d like it if you could be home for dinner.” He works at keeping his voice as even and gentle as he can, yet there’s still a snap to it and it makes Seungcheol sigh too. “Today is going to be really stressful for me and I - “

“It’s gonna be stressful for me too, Han.”

He can’t help it; he rolls his eyes. Irritation flares up like an annoying itch he can’t scratch and he hates it. So he snaps. “God, not everything’s about you, Seungcheol. Can’t you just shut up for one minute and pretend like you give a shit?”

Seungcheol doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The look in his eyes is more than enough to tell Jeonghan what he needs to know and he turns his head with a sigh. He can’t help remembering when they used to sneak deep kisses in this doorway, when the kids weren’t looking. Cheol’s hand on his ass, asking breathlessly if they really needed to go to work that day. Of course that was also back when they were fucking on the regular. When he’d wake up to Seungcheol brushing kisses along his inner thighs instead of an alarm or stress dreams, and they’d muffle moans as Cheol pushed inside him.

Now it’s been… four weeks? Five weeks? And even then all they’d done was barely attentive blowjobs that left Jeonghan with a shitty orgasm and more worked up than he’d been with Seungcheol’s mouth around his cock.

(Jeonghan had gotten himself off in the shower last night to relieve stress so maybe he could get _some_ sleep, because the thought of an unenthusiastic Seungcheol wrapping loose hands around his dick was enough to make him want to scream.)

“I need to go,” Seungcheol says now. “Or we’re gonna be late.”

Jeonghan merely nods and keeps his eyes open as Seungcheol leans in to give him a perfunctory kiss on the cheek. “Have a good day,” he says, sticking to the script they’ve cultivated over the last several months. “Love you.”

“You too.”

It’s as hollow as the kiss he gave him, and with that Seungcheol’s gone.

_Finally._

He drops Seungkwan off first, who all but tucks and rolls out of the car at the sight of his best friend. As Jeonghan rolls up his window after shouting out a “love you, be good!” he hears Seungkwan shrieking _“Hansol!”_ and it makes him chuckle, despite the mood he’s in. Honestly, Chwe Hansol needs a damn medal for being so sweet and patient with Seungkwan. It’s not easy (and if anyone knows that firsthand, it’s Jeonghan) and he does it with such graceful tolerance. More than the normal eight-year-old should have. And after that it’s Chan’s turn and he needs a bit more coaxing. So Jeonghan gives him lots of hugs and kisses as they stand in front of his school, each one raising his own spirits a bit. Because Chan just clings to him the way he wishes Seungcheol, Kwan, or Jihoon would. But then it’s time to go and like the good boy he is, Chan gives him one last kiss and heads off into the building.

Which means Jeonghan’s next stop is his own school.

It’s nearing nine when Jeonghan finally gets to his familiar classroom and he sets his bag down with a heavy sigh. The group posters from last semester are still hanging up in the back but it actually looks kind of nice, so Jeonghan decides to keep them up. He gets to work readying his laptop, hooking it up to the projectors, and then climbs the seemingly endless steps to the top of the risers so he can see his life’s work from the back.

Maybe a quarter of the way through his rehearsal one of the doors opens.

An unfamiliar student walks in (but to be fair campus is pretty decently sized so.). He’s impossibly tall and almost ridiculously handsome, even from up here, and Jeonghan starts to make his way down the steps to greet him. Since he’s the first one here, after all.

This guy doesn’t look lost or awkward like most freshmen though; no he just leans against the table that houses Jeonghan’s bag with a dashing smile and eyes that seemingly roam the length of his body a bit too slowly.

It must be Jeonghan’s imagination because there’s no way a student would be checking him out.

_Jesus I must really need to get laid._

“Professor Yoon, right?”

Up close, maybe a few feet away from him, Jeonghan gets a better look. And this kid is fucking handsome. He’s all sharp, defined edges and canines that poke against his bottom lip and - and just _broad._ Jeonghan wonders just what the fuck kids are being fed these days because no one looked like this when Jeonghan was twenty-two. Not even Seungcheol, and he’d been one of the hottest guys on campus.

“Uh, yeah,” Jeonghan says, sounding oh so professional. “Are you one of my Intro to Korean students?” _If this kid is a freshman then I am officially disconnected from the youth._

The kid – he’s a man, really, who the hell is Jeonghan kidding? - grins wide. “God no. No, I’m your teacher’s aide this semester. Kim Mingyu.”

Oh.

Oh. Great.

Jeonghan swallows and puts a smile on his face. Tries to ignore the new butterflies in his stomach. And this time, it’s the good kind. The kind that make him feel young again. “That’s right. Well good morning Kim-ssi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Mingyu just keeps grinning, reaches up to brush some of his sleek black hair from his eyes. “Good morning, seonsaengnim. And please, call me Mingyu. It’s a little too early in morning for kimchi.”

It takes a second for the joke to register in his mind but when he does he lets out a stupid-sounding giggle. Yes, very professional. “That was dumb.”

Mingyu laughs too, and it’s just as stupid as Jeonghan’s. Which only adds to the butterflies in Jeonghan’s belly. “What can I say, I excel at terrible jokes. As well as passing judgment on freshmen who don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Well then I might just keep you around.”

Mingyu bites his lip just a little bit. “So how do you like your coffee, seonsaengnim?”

He should tell him that he quit, that he’s so old (at thirty-two) that any amount of coffee just makes him have to shit and keeps him tossing and turning for hours, no matter when he consumed it. But he doesn’t, because of the charming smile Mingyu gives him. He just murmurs “iced americano, please” and Mingyu hops to.

As to be expected, all of Jeonghan’s anxiety flies out the window the moment he begins his first lesson of the day. The freshmen are exhausted already, half an hour into their first day, eyes darting in their nervousness, hardly paying attention to anything Jeonghan says. Of course having Mingyu there probably isn’t helping. During the lesson Jeonghan keeps seeing so many of his students glance in his direction. Making googly eyes at him. Tittering behind their hands and laptops as if they’re being subtle.

It only makes Jeonghan grin and he wonders if Mingyu notices.

If he’s used to it.

After that first class Jeonghan sits down at the table near the front with a heavy sigh and Mingyu just gives him a toothy, fanged grin.

“If it’s any consolation, I thought the lesson was rather boring too.”

Jeonghan looks at him, feels a smile tugging at his lips. Who the hell is this kid and how has he been able to just stroll into Jeonghan’s life, all handsome and confident, and cocky, in an hour?

_Sounds like someone else I know._

“Anyone ever tell you to respect your elders, kid?” he asks even though he hardly means it. It’s gotten him flack and disdain from some of the other professors but he’s never really been big on enforcing honorifics or the insane amounts of respect the older professors demand. And Mingyu is hardly an exception. Somehow he must know it, too. Is he like this with his other teachers?

Maybe Jeonghan needs to do some asking around.

“Oh come on,” Mingyu says. “You can’t be that old.”

“What if I am?”

“Then I’d ask you for the number to your plastic surgeon.”

God, it feels nice to banter like this. To have someone be engaged in a conversation with him. Honestly Jeonghan never quite realized how much he missed this: conversing with another adult. With someone who _wants_ to talk to him. And since they’ve been on winter break he hasn’t seen Joshua as often as he’d like to. So between a distant Seungcheol and three kids, this is the most he’s talked to another adult in weeks. _Jesus. How sad is my life?_ He sighs a bit after a sip of his iced americano. “So tell me, Kim Mingyu, if you think Intro to Korean Linguistics is so boring, why are you TA’ing for it?”

He shrugs a bit and takes a sip of his own coffee. “I needed the credits and the experience for my teaching credential.”

“Oh? What age do you want to teach?" As he waits for Mingyu to respond Jeonghan busies himself with the slideshow for his next class, in forty-five minutes, double-clicking on the file on his flash drive.

"Either older primary or middle school." He takes a sip of his coffee and then continues. “They’re old enough to sort of take care of themselves but still young enough to be cute.”

Jeonghan smiles to himself, remembering when he wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. But spending any amount of time with young children exhausts him to no end (ask Seungcheol) so he’d quickly chosen another path. But he smiles at Mingyu, slideshow already to go because he’d spent the last week perfecting it. Just like all the others. Really, he needs to stop doubting himself so much. “That’s idealistic of you.”

Mingyu grins back, once again showing off those fangs of his, a small laugh escapes his lips. “I try.” A quick glance at the clock softens his features and he stands up with a heavy sigh. “I gotta get to my next class. But should we exchange numbers or something, that way if we need to reach each other…?”

Jeonghan nods and reaches into his bag to fish out his phone, and a few moments later he has a brand new contact. Mingyu decided to keep some semblance of professionalism and added his full name with “TA” in parenthesis (similarly, Jeonghan had typed in Prof. Yoon after a moment of deliberation). And then Mingyu leaves with a bright smile, promising to text later.

Jeonghan has maybe three minutes to process everything that just happened when someone else walks into the lecture hall, someone a lot more familiar than Kim Mingyu.

“Happy first day of classes,” Joshua Hong says with the same soft smirk Jeonghan always sees him wearing.

“Happy first day of classes,” Jeonghan sighs back, making room at the table for his best friend to sit down. Taking a sip of his coffee he glances up at Joshua. “It’s been a fucking day.”

“It’s ten-thirty,” Joshua says but there’s sympathy in his eyes.

Honestly, Jeonghan’s so lucky he and Joshua found each other. They’ve been best friends for three years, since Joshua accidentally stumbled into Jeonghan’s (thankfully for Joshua) empty classroom and muttered out an apology in half Korean, half English for thinking it was his. They’re both language professors (Joshua teaches English, the bilingual bastard) and spend half of their time terrorizing the other ancient professors in their department with their youthful, stick it to the man ways.

So as his best friend, he gets to sit and listen quietly while Jeonghan spends the next ten minutes ranting about Seungcheol.

And does he.

He tells Joshua everything that happened this morning, everything he’s missed in recent text messages and phone calls. And by the time he finishes he’s honestly a bit out of breath and way too fired up to really think straight.

He blames the coffee, gift as it was.

“You know he’s stressed at work,” Joshua says quietly.

Because even though he’s Jeonghan’s best friend, he’s first and foremost logical and the kind of person who tries to see situations from every possible angle. Which Jeonghan usually appreciates because it gives him different points of view he wouldn’t normally have. But this morning it just sounds like he’s taking Seungcheol’s side. So he huffs in response, sucking down another gulp of coffee. “It’s hardly an excuse. I’m stressed too but I at least _try.”_

Something shines in Joshua’s eyes, something mischievous that seems to ask “do you?”. But he doesn’t say anything. Just reaches out and touches Jeonghan’s hand comfortingly. And then his eyes twitch towards the iced americano between them. “I thought you quit?”

“What can I say,” Jeonghan says, trying not to blush as he thinks about Mingyu’s happy grin. “I can never say no to a good iced americano.”

“Sure,” Joshua says slowly, “but the iced americanos here _aren’t_ good.”

Seungcheol isn’t home for dinner, but Jeonghan didn’t figure he would be. So he picks up Jihoon from his studies and swings by Wonwoo’s to grab Chan and Seungkwan (and Wonwoo isn’t overly helpful when Jeonghan asks him about Cheol’s whereabouts. He just shrugs and says something about their boss keeping him late. Again.) and then the four of them grab some chicken for dinner. Easy, cheap, and agreeable. And this time at the table, Jeonghan’s relatively stress free - at least compared to this morning - so he’s able to talk and engage with his boys.

They tease Seungkwan about his “boyfriend” Hansol, and he gives a dreamy sigh before announcing he’s going to ask the boy to marry him at recess tomorrow. Then he turns to his hyung to ask for wedding music recommendations. Jihoon merely tears into a piece of chicken.

All in all, the evening goes well. The four of them even manage a soft silence in the living room after dinner, working on homework, or tomorrow’s lesson plans in Jeonghan’s case.

And then it’s Chan’s bedtime and Seungcheol still hasn’t come home. Honestly, Jeonghan’s more worried than mad at this point and he eyes the clock in the boys’ bathroom as he helps Chan brush his teeth. He’s never been this late before, not even last fall when he and his team were really close to missing their deadlines or whatever, Seungcheol didn’t really talk about it.

_He’ll probably be in a bad mood whenever he actually gets home._

He sighs at the thought but ignores it as he helps Chan rinse out his mouth and then dry off (somehow he manages to get a spectacular amount of water everywhere every time he brushes) - 

“Appa!!”

It’s definitely Seungkwan, loud enough to reach upstairs, and with an excited squeal Chan slides out of Jeonghan’s arms and scampers out of the bathroom before he even has the chance to process what happened.

So Jeonghan makes his way downstairs and finds his husband standing in the entryway, Chan in his arms and Seungkwan hugging his waist. He cards a slow hand through Seungkwan’s hair and gives their youngest a tired but happy smile. Jihoon’s standing next to him, head on the arm holding Chan.

And Jeonghan’s heart swells.

No matter how much he and Seungcheol fight, no matter how pissed off or frustrated or exhausted they are, they will always make time for their boys. And he’s always loved seeing Seungcheol with them. He gets so _soft,_ and he’s happy when he’s with them.

It reminds Jeonghan of the Seungcheol he fell in love with.

“Come on Channie,” he murmurs amidst a forehead kiss. “It’s bedtime.”

“Noooo,” Chan whines, clinging to Cheol with a pout. “I wanna stay up. Please appa?”

“Bedtime, baby,” Jeonghan says as he comes to collect their youngest. But for all his whining and pouting he goes willingly. Because like Jeonghan he knows when to pick his battles.

Seungcheol gives their other two gentle promises that he’ll be back downstairs in a few minutes and with that he goes with Jeonghan to put Chan to bed.

After almost twelve years of marriage and ten years of raising kids they have Chan’s bedtime down to a science now: Jeonghan assumes the role of stickler parent and searches for pajamas while Seungcheol becomes fun parent and entertains their youngest. Then they change him together and tuck him into bed. After that Seungcheol kneels by his bedside and sings him lullabies. Like he used to do for Kwan and Jihoon too.

(Like he’s done for Jeonghan when he’s scared or stressed. But that hasn’t been for a while.)

It’s a ten-minute affair and by the time they turn the light off and close the door, Chan’s passed out and Jeonghan’s heart is full. So he pushes aside everything they need to talk about, everything that’s been bugging him and stressing him out, and he pulls Seungcheol in for a soft kiss he reciprocates (thankfully), with a hand on Jeonghan’s lower back.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he murmurs against Cheol’s plush lips.

Seungcheol makes a quiet noise. “I am too.”

After spending time with Jihoon and Seungkwan it’s their bedtime too (Seungkwan is a big boy who can go to bed all by himself thank you, but can appa please check under the bed for monsters anyway?) and then Jeonghan hops in the shower, determined to wash the day’s burdens away with almost too-hot water. About halfway through, conditioner clinging to the tips of his hair, he hears Seungcheol moving around in the bathroom too. And a part of him, a part not as courageous as he wishes, wants to ask Cheol to join him. Want to feel his hands on him, straying to places of his body that don’t need cleaning as much as they need to be _touched._

Fuck. His cock twitches just thinking about it, stomach swooping pleasantly.

But before he can work up the nerve he hears the bathroom door open and close again.

So he rinses his hair and thinks about work tomorrow to keep his erection at bay. Tomorrow he’s got his third- and fourth-year classes and for some reason those are decidedly easier than teaching freshmen. Probably since he’s usually had a good chunk of these students before and they know how college works by that point. And he most likely won’t see Mingyu since the only class he TAs for is Monday’s Intro to Korean (which means no free coffee), but he’ll definitely see Joshua since Tuesdays and Thursdays have always been their lunch days.

Which is good. There’s still a lot to catch up on between them.

When he finally exits the bathroom he finds Seungcheol lounging on their bed in nothing but boxers and the unexpected sight forces a rather embarrassing, but small, noise from his throat. And if Seungcheol notices he says nothing. Hell he doesn’t even look up from his phone and any arousal Jeonghan feels is quickly squashed by irritation as he changes into a pair of shorts and one of Cheol’s old t-shirts.

“So how was work?” he asks quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

And that’s it. No “how was your day” or anything.

Apparently his good mood began and ended with the kids.

Jeonghan sighs heavily as he climbs into his side of the bed - and then finds himself face to face with Seungcheol. Well more like face to phone but it’s still something right? Like earlier butterflies settle in his stomach but they’re the kind he hates. The awkward, buzzing kind. The only kind Seungcheol really makes him feel anymore. Fuck he hates this. Hates the distance between them, how delicate it is. Hates that they’re… they’re roommates now, really. They share a bed and a house and a space but that’s… that’s it. They don’t talk, they don’t spend time together.

If he thinks about it, Jeonghan could probably figure out when everything turned into this.

Maybe.

The scary thing is, he’s not sure how far back he’d have to dig.

“Cheol,” he says quietly.

He’s graced with a noncommittal grunt.

Biting back a sigh he reaches out and gently pries Seungcheol’s phone from his hands. Locks it. Meets his husband’s confused, annoyed gaze. “I want you to touch me tonight,” he whispers.

As cursory as sex between them has become, Jeonghan still craves it. Still wants Seungcheol’s hands and mouth on him, no matter how mechanical it might be.

Seungcheol sighs heavily and something in his eyes softens. “Not tonight, Hannie. I’m too tired.”

Jeonghan’s heart momentarily soars at the nickname and then drops. Just like his mood. “That’s always your excuse,” he bites out before he can stop himself.

He scoffs in response, plucking his phone from Jeonghan’s hands. “‘Excuse’? So what, you think I just don’t want to fuck you anymore?”

“That’s what it seems like.”

“Jesus, Jeonghan,” he snaps. “Not everything’s about you, you know. Maybe I actually _am_ tired because I worked a fucking twelve-hour day. Like I do almost every day.”

_“God, not everything’s about you, Seungcheol. Can’t you just shut up for one minute and pretend like you give a shit?”_

He really hates when Seungcheol can find a way to throw his words back at him, whether he means to or not. So he just scowls and turns onto his other side, facing his bedside table. Whatever. If Seungcheol wants to be like that then fine. With a huff Jeonghan grabs his phone from where it’s charging - and finds a new message from a Kim Mingyu.

_“It was great meeting you seonsaengnim, and I’m looking forward to being your aide this semester!”_

He thinks about Mingyu’s bright smile. The way they’d talked and bantered, if for only five minutes.

A single text, from a man he barely knows, a student technically, shouldn’t make him feel so warm. Like he’s special. The only person in the world. But it does and he’s not sure why. He’s also not sure if that should be a warning sign or something.

(It’s not. It’s just been too long since he talked to someone other than his husband or Joshua and he could see himself getting along with Mingyu. On a strictly professional level, of course.)

And despite everything he smiles. Types back a _“you too, Mingyu!”_ before locking his phone and turning off his lamp. Behind him he hears Seungcheol do the same, shrouding their room in darkness.

They don’t say “good night”.


	2. two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this 8.2k chapter is brought to you by "fear" and "flower" on repeat so this'll be fun.
> 
> tw: rough sex that might seem a bit noncon but i promise it's not - the characters involved didn't have a conversation they should have but all parties are consenting. there is also one instance of violence. it's just a slap but still, it happens.
> 
> things also get a bit dark... but maybe good times ahead?

**two.**

Seungcheol’s heard it said, _“never go to bed angry!”,_ and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the root of most of his problems lately. Honestly he used to call bullshit on that phrase, scoffing whenever his eomma said it to him growing up (and she’d eye Jeonghan with a little smirk as she did so, like she knew something Seungcheol didn’t). But now, waking up every morning with a neck and back that’ve been sore for at least a straight month, there has to be some truth to it.

Or the stress of - of everything is finally getting to him and taking its toll on his body.

Either way he feels like he’s seventy years old and he would really rather like it if he _didn’t_ feel that way, thank you. He’s thirty-two, after all. Still relatively young.

Except that he found a gray hair this morning. A few of them, actually (they aren’t the first ones he’s ever found but it’s definitely been awhile). Had just stared at them in the mirror, resting above his temple, practically stark white against his raven hair, like they were responsible for everything wrong in his life. And God knows he’d like to be able to find something to blame for that. A scapegoat.

But life isn’t that easy.

With a groan he stretches in his desk chair, letting his head hang over the back of it, muscles aching as they stretch. He could do with a massage, really. Or a good fucking.

Too bad he doesn’t have the time or energy for either.

He sighs as he looks at the screen in front of him, at the number of files open on it. At the work that has consumed his life more than he’d ever admit because he’s too proud for that. Or too embarrassed. By all accounts he should’ve punched out by now, been getting into his car for the almost hour-long commute back home. But as usual the work is never ending and Seungcheol’s boss still hasn’t learned how to do his own goddamn work after, what, thirty years in this industry -

Or maybe he’s just learned that suckers like Choi Seungcheol will pick up the slack because _someone_ should be making sure the company doesn’t go under.

A soft knock on the door pulls him from his reverie and he looks up into Wonwoo’s soft, sympathetic gaze. Usually it would bring him even a modicum of comfort but lately it just feels pitying. And Seungcheol hates pity.

“Jeonghan-hyung texted me,” Wonwoo says quietly, tie hanging limply around his shoulders as he undoes the first couple buttons of his dress shirt. The symbol of freedom. Seungcheol’s is a noose in comparison, slowly tightening around his throat to the point where he feels like he can’t breathe. “Since it’s Tuesday and his classes are different he’ll be picking up the kids from school and everything. Just - just thought you should know, hyung.”

“Thanks,” Seungcheol sighs, pretending like the mention of his husband doesn’t spike his anxiety a bit. He remembers last night - the kids greeting him at the door, the way tears had randomly sprung up in his throat at their sweet faces, their unconditional love for him. Jeonghan in their bed, asking to be touched. Snapping at him when Seungcheol said he was tired, like it was some kind of evasion. A lie. No doubt Jeonghan will be in another mood tonight and maybe there’s a tiny part of Seungcheol that’s grateful he has to stay so late.

Wonwoo sighs too. “He seemed worried about you yesterday. Asked me where you were.”

“He acts like I’m cheating on him,” Seungcheol bites out. “Where else am I but at work?”

“Hyung…”

God. Seungcheol knows that tone so well. They’ve had this conversation before. Several times. It’s usually “you should be more patient with your husband, hyung”. Or sometimes it’s “why don’t you ask for a night off, so you can spend time with Jeonghan, hyung?”. Always a “hyung”, coated in a gentle scolding that Seungcheol’s tired of hearing. And in all its forms the conversation has the same inevitable end: Seungcheol defensive and upset because he’s the one working twelve-hour days, thank you. Forced to pick up their incompetent boss’s work. Why can’t Jeonghan be patient with _him?_

(The one time he snapped that at Wonwoo his friend had scowled like he’d directly offended him. “You really wanna go there, hyung?”)

“I don’t wanna hear it, Wonwoo,” he sighs. “Not tonight. I’ve got to catch up on these reports and get them out to the president, okay?”

“Why don’t you just take the night off,” Wonwoo says, like it would be so easy. “Junnie and I are heading to that bar down the street for a couple hours.”

“The one he’s got stock in?” And the thought actually brings the smallest of smiles to his lips because the thought of wild Junhui, on track to be sales team leader, actually investing money in a bar is just so perfectly Junhui it’s entertaining. Hell, Cheol’s heard he’s even got a sugar baby in college or something. Good for him.

“That’s a club, hyung,” Wonwoo responds, like there’s enough of a difference that Seungcheol should feel bad for not remembering.

“Oh. Well either way, it’s a Tuesday at four-thirty p.m.,” Seungcheol points out and glances at the document in front of him. A summary of their finances last quarter, one his boss was supposed to have done like last week. And he’d blamed Seungcheol for that one, spewing some bullshit Cheol wasn’t really paying attention to. Something about how the president of the company would have his head if it didn’t get done so Seungcheol better get on it or some vague threat that just made him roll his eyes. Once he was alone in his office, of course. “Besides, I can’t. I really need to get this done.”

Wonwoo sighs once more. “Suit yourself, hyung.”

And with that Seungcheol is once again left in blissful, isolated silence. He rubs a hand down his face, palm rubbing against the stubble he forgot to shave this morning, opting for an extra twenty minutes of sleep instead. At least this morning Jeonghan hadn’t woken him up with the bright light from his laptop…

His face heats up in shame at the memory, how angrily he’d reacted. How angrily he _always_ reacts. God. In retrospect he should’ve been more patient. Should’ve comforted Jeonghan, kissed away his fears the way he likes. But he doesn’t get much sleep as it is and to be woken up so early before his alarm…

God. He’s just making excuses and he _knows_ it.

A gentle rap on the door gives him a welcome respite from his reverie and he looks up to see his boss’s young intern, Taesoo, standing in his open doorway. He’s clutching a small stack of files in his hands and Seungcheol returns the gentle smile on his face.

“Hyung?” Taesoo asks meekly, like Cheol is someone to be scared of. Really, he’s just twenty-two and completely new at all this. Just like Seungcheol was when he started out here.

“Yes, Taesoo-yah?” He glances at the files and sighs. “Those from our esteemed boss?”

He smiles a bit wider at Seungcheol’s tired, vaguely mocking tone. “Yeah. He asked me to drop them off before I go - said something about ‘Yoon-ssi doing us all a favor’.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “Sounds like something he’d say.” Heaving a sigh he stands up from his chair and makes his way around the desk, on tight muscles, to take the files.

And maybe he imagines it - maybe it actually happened - but he swears Taesoo’s eyes roam down his body a little slower than they should. Fuck, it really could just be his imagination but…

But Seungcheol knows he’s attractive. When they used to go out on date nights, Jeonghan would cling to him, give him extra kisses just to mark his territory in his own little Jeonghan way. Hell, he still gets asked out a lot, even with his wedding ring in plain sight. It’s just… Taesoo’s so _young._ Ten years younger than him, his coworker…

Seungcheol takes the files and goes back to sit down. And after bidding Taesoo a good night, the younger man leaves. And for a moment, Seungcheol watches him go.

He’s thought about cheating before, once or twice in the last couple years, when the situation has presented itself. But he would never do it. God knows he doesn’t have the time or the energy or the money or anything like that. Plus, and most importantly, it… it’s so cowardly. A childish way to end a relationship. He couldn’t do that to Jeonghan.

The problem is - and it’s such a sick irony - the only person in the world he wants is his husband.

It’s ten when he drags his exhausted, sorry ass up the stairs and into their bedroom. At this point the kids are all asleep and Seungcheol just wants to dive headfirst into the memory foam mattress he calls home and block out everything else.

But of course, Jeonghan never lets him have his way.

“Where’ve you been?” he asks from his side of the bed, book closed on his lap. And to his credit he only sounds partially accusing, which must be hard for him.

Seungcheol doesn’t even glance at him as he undresses. “Work, Jeonghan. Where else do I spend my time?”

A light sigh. He can all but picture Jeonghan rolling his eyes. “It’s just - you hardly ever come home this late. I was worried, that’s all.”

“Well I’m home now. So you can stop worrying.”

“Can I?”

Seungcheol just sighs and makes his way into the bathroom. A quick glance into the mirror shows that those stupid gray hairs are still there - they just _mock_ him from their spot above his temple - and Seungcheol gets ready for bed without looking at himself again.

When he comes back into the bedroom Jeonghan’s lamp is off and he’s under the covers, facing his bedside table. Even from the doorway to their bathroom, even in the low light the lamp on his own bedside table gives off, Seungcheol can see how tense he is, the rigid line of muscle on his back, beneath his white t-shirt. His heart catches in his throat for a brief moment, something in him itching to just touch Jeonghan. Because he’s familiar. Comforting. Always has been. Whenever stress and worry and anxiety have been weighing him down, his go-to reliever has been Jeonghan since day one.

He’s not sure when that changed.

He climbs into his side of the bed and faces Jeonghan’s taut back. Reaches out a hand and tries to pretend it doesn’t hurt when Jeonghan jumps under his touch. But he can perfectly feel all the little knots beneath his skin, little pockets of tension that Seungcheol knows he’s at least partially responsible for. Fuck, who’s he kidding? These are all because of him and for a moment he wants to soothe. Wants to run his hands up and down Jeonghan’s bare back until there’s not a tight muscle in his body.

But then Jeonghan pulls away from his touch and the moment’s over as quickly as it came. “Stop. I’m going to sleep.”

So Seungcheol rolls onto his other side, wounded as he reaches up to turn off his own lamp.

Even when he tries, it turns out like this. So what’s the point?

Wednesday, they put the play back on and assume their usual roles: Seungcheol waking up first and hopping in the shower and Jeonghan laying on his side, pretending like he hasn’t been up for hours. And once Seungcheol’s out (walking to his closet in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets dripping down the little crevices of his body - God Jeonghan feels _starved)_ Jeonghan gets into the shower too, takes up the last of the hot water. After that he dresses in the sweater Joshua bought him for Christmas this past year and heads down to start coffee and food.

While he does so, he listens to Cheol getting the kids up, as best as he can from the kitchen. Chan’s laughter echoes throughout the house and Jeonghan smiles a bit as he thinks about all the tickles that kid needs to get anything done. And then a few minutes later he hears Seungkwan’s delighted giggles as Seungcheol no doubt laughs at his jokes, the way he always does (to this day, Jeonghan’s not sure if it’s out of pity or sincerity - Cheol’s always been silly). And with Jihoon, he’s quiet. Patient. Unobtrusive as he walks out of his room even though he was only in there for maybe two minutes.

He’s the perfect father. Always has been.

He shuffles out into the kitchen and stops at the coffee maker. “Oh,” he murmurs as he looks at it, almost done brewing by this point actually. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Jeonghan mumbles back in the same awkward fashion as he finishes the kids’ lunches.

True to form they don’t speak another word to each other until they say their goodbyes at the door. And this time Jeonghan has a vibrating Seungkwan tugging at his pants, demanding they leave right now because he has a wedding present to give to Hansol (that was all he could talk about at dinner last night, and Jeonghan has half a mind to inform his son about the less than happy parts of marriage but he won’t because he’s not a monster). So they share a quick peck before Seungcheol’s out the door, a perfunctory “love you” leaving his lips.

In comparison, Mingyu is decidedly more excited to see him than his own husband was. By a lot.

For starters he has his coffee ready to go when they meet outside the lecture room. And he greets Jeonghan with a warm, toothy grin and a “how’d you sleep, seonsaengnim?”

They talk in the few minutes before class - Mingyu laments about one of his classes, about his roommates. Really he commands the conversation wholly, with his bright voice and easy laugh, and Jeonghan is more than willing to let him. There’s just something about the deep, smooth timbre of his voice. It’s relaxing. In a strange way, if Jeonghan stops and thinks about it. This is his TA, who he’s only known for two, three days.

But that’s just who Kim Mingyu is, Jeonghan is quickly finding out.

Easy to get along with. Inadvertently comforting. Charming in a pure, kind way (kind of like a dog). Jeonghan sees it in the way the students come up to him for help (apparently Mingyu aced this course as a freshman with Professor Lee), the effortless smiles he gives them. The way he’s able to laugh and joke with them until they’re laughing too. Jeonghan sees it in the way he brings him coffee - twice now. The way he makes Jeonghan’s insides erupt in a soft sort of warmth every time he looks at him. The way he hangs onto anyone’s every word like what they’re saying is the most important information in the world.

It reminds him of someone else he knows, but Jeonghan pushes those thoughts away.

When he dismisses his students, he heads towards Mingyu - but before he can even reach the table his TA sits at, a short, pretty girl walks up to him too. Coy smile and all. So Jeonghan pretends to busy himself with his laptop but he’s listening.

“Mingyu-ssi?” the student asks quietly.

He gives her that sweet smile.

“I was - I was wondering…” She sighs a bit, plays with her fingers. “Would you like to go out s-sometime?”

The smile widens, like he’s honored to even be asked, and his canines poke his bottom lip. He looks incredibly handsome like this, and Jeonghan can hardly blame the girl for trying. “I would, I really would, but I made a promise to my parents - and myself - that I’m not dating this year. So I can focus on my classes.”

Her face falls, but only a little bit. No doubt a product of Mingyu’s (seemingly) unintentional friendliness, his warmth. “Oh. Okay. Th-thank you anyway.”

“Hey, thank _you,”_ Mingyu says quietly, giving her a wink that leaves Jeonghan grinning to himself. “Really. I appreciate it.”

When the student leaves, filing out of the classroom with the last of them, Jeonghan laughs and turns toward his TA. “You’re quite the charmer aren’t you, Kim Mingyu-ssi?”

He shrugs a bit, a soft blush on his cheeks. “Am I? I’m just sincere.”

“Or a flirt. I would know.”

“Yeah?” He leans back in his chair, looking at Jeonghan with bright, piercing eyes. “Don’t tell me - “

Jeonghan grins, feeling just a tad self-satisfied. “Back in my day, I was quite the charmer myself. Broke a lot of hearts.”

Mingyu laughs a bit at this and takes a sip from the last dredges of his coffee. “I believe it. But, ah, not anymore right?” Those eyes of his fall to the ring on Jeonghan’s left hand; as if prompted, Jeonghan plays with it a bit. Turns it around the base of his finger, feeling the weight of it.

“Not on purpose at least,” he says.

“Hmm. How long have you been married?”

He sighs lightly as he thinks about it, about Seungcheol. “Twelve years in June.”

Mingyu’s eyes widen a bit. “But you’re so young, seonsaengnim.”

The honorific sounds tacked on; Jeonghan ignores it. “I’m thirty-two. Is that still considered young?”

At that, Mingyu’s face twists up in thinly veiled disgust. “Wait, you were younger than me when you got married? I couldn’t even imagine…”

He’s heard that before. So many times. Heard it from his parents, from Seungcheol’s, from their friends and classmates and coworkers. Everyone told them they were too young to get married…

_Maybe they knew what they were talking about._

“It just felt right,” Jeonghan says as he thinks about it. As memories come rushing back.

Meeting Seungcheol on the first day of kindergarten (“Do you wanna see something cool?” Jeonghan had asked him, the first kid he saw that day, and after getting the go-ahead he’d proceeded to bend his finger all the way back until it touched his wrist, since he’s double-jointed. And Seungcheol had started _crying, wailing_ because he thought Jeonghan had hurt himself. And then Jeonghan started crying too because he thought he was going to get in trouble and school hadn’t even technically started).

Beating up the kids that teased Seungcheol for the plush beagle he carried around until they were nine (and slept with till they were eighteen). Playing in the fields behind Jeonghan's house. Going to dances, sharing their first kiss together during a cliché game of spin the bottle gone awry. Wiping away each other's tears, going on their first date together. Spending Jeonghan’s parents’ eighteenth anniversary holed up in his bed since mom and dad were out of town for the weekend.

Graduating high school with a promise ring each, that one day they would take the natural next step in their relationship and wed.

God. They've been each other's first… everything.

So of course they would be each other’s first -

Wait. _Only_ spouse.

“Uh, seonsaengnim?” Mingyu asks quietly, bringing him back to reality.

Jeonghan sighs with a slight shake of his head, to clear it. “Sorry, I was just thinking.” And for a moment he almost tells Mingyu that things aren’t easy at home. That any mention of his husband sends him into a spiral of thoughts that rival an existential crisis and he doesn’t know what the fuck that means for their relationship. But then he stops, thinks, and keeps his mouth shut. Mingyu doesn’t need to know that - he’s his TA, a student; they’re to maintain a strictly professional relationship.

So he just puts on a smile.

“We, uh, have three kids, my husband and I,” he murmurs.

And Mingyu gives him the widest grin Jeonghan’s ever seen on his handsome face. “Do you really? How old are they?”

For the ten minutes until Mingyu has to get to class (when he leaves Jeonghan pretends not to notice that the clock is already at ten-thirty and there’s no way he’d make it on time), they talk about the kids. About Jihoon and his reluctance to do anything (“Maybe I want to rethink teaching middle schoolers,” Mingyu says), about Seungkwan and his adorable crush on Hansol, about Chan and his dance class. They learn that another piece of fate draws them together, whether they want it to or not - Mingyu’s roommate and best friend Minghao is the same Minghao that volunteers with Chan’s class from time to time.

And then Mingyu looks at Jeonghan with a soft smile, one that he feels in his gut. “I should get going. See you Monday, seonsaengnim?”

Jeonghan’s heart sinks a bit at not being able to see Mingyu in person for so long but he tries not to show it as he nods. “You’ll actually have something to grade that night.”

He flashes a smirk over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “You’re such a _cool_ teacher, seonsaengnim,” he teases. And then he’s gone.

Jeonghan sits back in his chair and awaits his eleven o’clock class quietly.

The rest of the week goes by about the same - though Jeonghan complains to Joshua on more than one occasion that his Intro to Korean Linguistics is hardly the class he needs a TA for as he grades homework for his Korean Dialectology students. Jihoon helps out where he can with grading, but Jeonghan hates asking it of him since he’s so busy with school now. So he mostly just does it by himself. Thursday afternoon Jeonghan’s free and he takes Chan to his dance class as usual. Friday he grocery shops, does laundry, more grading so he can spend his Saturday with his family. And sometimes Mingyu texts. Usually it’s questions he can’t answer for the students (he took it upon himself to create a group chat for help and told Jeonghan “don’t worry, you won’t have to touch it, old man”) but a few times it’s been more casual messages.

_“good morning, seonsaengnim! hope you slept well.”_

_“minghao was talking about your son today at dinner and said hes doing so well in class! thought you should know.”_

_“have a good night, seonsaengnim! i hope your day was good!”_

Texts like that. Texts that make Jeonghan smile, his heart clench just a bit.

Each and every night he and Seungcheol dance around each other like strangers. Honestly he can’t help replaying Tuesday night in his mind - Seungcheol’s hand on his back. God, he’d felt so warm and every part of Jeonghan had ached to just turn around and give in. But something felt… off about Seungcheol’s touch. Less than cursory but still hesitant. Like he felt like he needed to make up for something.

Imagine that.

Either way Jeonghan didn’t want to deal with that. Especially not when, given his track record, Seungcheol probably would’ve tapped out ten minutes in with nothing more than a half-hard erection, leaving Jeonghan high and dry.

He tries not to take it personally.

Seungcheol’s alarm goes off at six-thirty Saturday morning and Jeonghan curls up in bed, trying to block out the sound.

“What the fuck,” he whines as he buries his face deeper into the pillow. But it doesn’t give him the sweet relief he craves. “Seungcheol…”

“I know, I’m sorry,” comes his husband’s terse reply, mattress shifting as he moves from the bed. “Trust me, I’m not happy about it either.”

Jeonghan sighs heavily and gives up trying to go back to sleep for the moment, sits up and watches as Seungcheol rustles through their closet in the half-darkness. “What are you doing? It’s Saturday…”

“I know,” he repeats, a bit harder. And then he sighs. “Park asked me to come in for a bit. Something about reports and I just - “

“You can always tell him no, Cheol.”

He scoffs as he turns from the closet, clothes in hand. “Actually I can’t, Jeonghan. He’s my boss.”

Jeonghan eyes his husband quietly, watching as he makes his way to the bathroom. But he leaves the door open, not cutting off conversation like he usually does. So Jeonghan takes this as a sign. “Cheollie?”

“Hmm?”

“If… if you’re willing or not too tired,” he begins, butterflies forming in his stomach as the sink turns on in the bathroom. God, _why?_ Why is he nervous asking his husband out on a fucking date? _Ugh._ He huffs a sigh and tries again. “Listen, I think - I think we should do something tonight if you want. It’s been a while - “ _two months_ \- “and I know this week hasn’t been easy for either of us. We deserve it. Even if it’s just a night in with some takeout. Maybe Wonwoo can take the kids? Or Joshua? Or…”

He trails off, realizing he was rambling without Seungcheol responding.

Rambling because he’s _nervous._

The water turns off and a few moments later Seungcheol steps into the doorframe. He’s still in nothing but boxers and with the bathroom light behind him, hair still disheveled from sleep, he’s so handsome. And in his continued silence, Jeonghan lets his eyes wander for a moment. From Seungcheol’s sharp jaw to the slope of his neck, his strong chest, the little pouch in his stomach. He’s had every inch of Seungcheol’s body memorized long before their wedding night but sometimes he just forgets. Biting his lip he glances back up at Seungcheol’s face -

And finds his husband’s eyes on his own scantily clad form. Jeonghan himself is in nothing but pajama pants and Seungcheol’s gaze on him, warm and heavy, sends sparks through his body. So he sits up straighter, meets Seungcheol’s eyes.

The air shifts between them and for a moment they feel like they used to be. Like Seungcheol will cross the room in a few strides, capture Jeonghan’s mouth in a rough kiss. Press him into the mattress and remind him of the passion they share that all but burned out who knows how long ago.

But then Seungcheol looks away and Jeonghan comes back to himself. Remembers that they’re strangers in this bed now. Remembers that it would take a miracle for Seungcheol to touch him and actually mean it.

“Sure,” he says and it feels like it’s been a lifetime since Jeonghan spoke. “We can do something, I guess. I think there are some movies we could catch up on - “

“I was thinking something more… fancy,” Jeonghan murmurs but the fact that he got Seungcheol to agree even tentatively is a win. Now he just has to follow through. “Like getting dressed up for each other. And - and maybe the kids can sleep over at Shua’s or something.”

Seungcheol’s eyes flick back to his at what he’s insinuating and he licks his lips. “Do you still have that shirt you wore on our trip to Japan a couple years ago? For our tenth anniversary?”

Jeonghan thinks for a moment and then he remembers. It was a long sleeved, black, and white striped thing he’d worn under a black blazer and tucked into black slacks that hugged his legs a little more than he was used to. When they got back to the hotel Seungcheol had pressed up against him in the elevator, tugged the thick black choker around his neck just tight enough to make his heart pound, make it hard to breathe, and whispered that he looked beautiful. And that he was more than prepared to rip that shirt off him right then and there.

Yeah he can _definitely_ wear that tonight if Seungcheol wants. “Yes,” he murmurs. “I do. I’ll wear it if you wear what you wore that night too.”

It’d been a simple black silk shirt he left partially unbuttoned and tight black slacks. Simple and yet so sexy. And that’s what Seungcheol’s good at (Jeonghan blames it on the muscles).

Something shines in Seungcheol’s eyes and he nods. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

“Um, I’ll call Shua or Wonwoo or something,” Jeonghan says.

And for a moment they share a grin. It’s soft, brimming with the promise of - of something. Peace, maybe. Hopefully. If only for this one night.

Jeonghan goes about his Saturday chores with a cliché skip in his step. He dances with Seungkwan and Chan while they clean the house (also partially because he loves how red Jihoon’s face gets). He hums as he folds laundry. He reads Chan a story while putting him down for his nap (he's just like his appa - no naps and he gets cranky), complete with silly voices that make his son giggle. He helps the boys pack overnight bags for their stay with their uncle Joshua.

And he greets his best friend at the front door with what he knows is a dumb, goofy grin but he can’t help it because he and Seungcheol are finally getting real alone time tonight. They’re dressing up, ordering from their favorite restaurant - Jeonghan’s even pulled out candles and fairy lights for the dining room.

“You look happy,” Joshua comments as Chan reaches up at him with grabby hands. Honestly it’s a habit of his they need to break but he’s too precious so no one can say no to him. Especially not Joshua. He leans down and takes Chan into his arms, cooing at Seungkwan as he makes a noise of despair at not being picked up too.

Jeonghan pats Seungkwan’s head, tousles his hair. “I’m very happy, Shua.”

“I’m glad.” He reaches for Chan’s bag. “You should be, Hannie. This is the first date night you’ve had in - “

“Two months,” he finishes. “It’s gonna be… God, it’s gonna be great.”

Joshua smiles and after goodbyes (he even gets a hug from Jihoon), Jeonghan has the house all to himself.

So he gets to work. Cleans the dining room, sets up the fairy lights and the candles and the fancy tablecloth. And then he heads upstairs. Breaks into the drawer of makeup he hasn’t touched in months. Seungcheol’s told him countless times how much he loves seeing Jeonghan in makeup. So he gives himself a simple look: a gentle smokey eye with a soft pink lip tint. Then he gets dressed. The outfit is almost identical to the one he wore in Japan, just minus the blazer and the choker is a bit thinner. And really, he doesn’t hate the way he looks. Actually… actually he looks pretty damn good. Good enough to -

Heart thrumming in his chest like it would when he was a teenager and attempted anything flirty, Jeonghan reaches for his phone and then steps in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of their room. He used to send pictures like this to Seungcheol all the time - some clothed, some not - and he hopes he’ll like it.

Jeonghan goes through a few poses before he finds the picture he likes best and with giddy, almost shaking hands, he sends it to Seungcheol.

The reply comes a few minutes later as Jeonghan’s finishing up their takeout order.

_“You look incredible, baby.”_

His heart swells, fuck he’s _missed_ this so much - God, he’s missed Seungcheol more than he can even stand and that’s so clear to him now - of course they’ll be able to get past this little hiccup -

_“And I’m sorry - it looks like I’m gonna be stuck here for a while longer. Park needs me to finish up a few things. But I’ll try to be out around six, okay?”_

Jeonghan sighs at that, trying to ignore the sudden gnawing in his chest. They’ve been through this before: made plans only for them to fall through at the last minute because Seungcheol can never stand up to his fucking boss.

But he takes a deep breath, lets it out, and texts back: _“Let me know when you’re off and I’ll order the food.”_

Six p.m. goes by and nothing. Then it’s seven. Then eight. By nine any hope Jeonghan had is gone and he sits on the couch glaring at the clock with each passing second, willing Seungcheol to walk through the door so he can yell at him and then go to bed.

Ten-thirty and Jeonghan gets what he wants.

Seungcheol shuffles through their front door and it slams behind him.

Their eyes meet.

Seungcheol breathes in, eyes brightening -

And Jeonghan snaps.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands, closing the distance between them with a few loud, angry steps. “You told me you’d be home _four hours_ ago.”

“What do you want me to do, Jeonghan?” he bites out. “Quit my fucking job so I can come home and - and fuck you?”

“I’ve told you, again and again and again, what I want you to do! Just say no, Seungcheol!” He huffs a breath, resisting the urge to pull his hair out because he’s so frustrated. They have this argument every week - he’s just talking to hear himself at this point. “God! Your boss is taking advantage of you because you’re too nice to say no. Would it kill you to just tell him ‘I can’t do this thing you want me to do, it’s Saturday, I’ll do it on Monday when I’m supposed to be working’?”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jeonghan. And I’m not in the fucking mood to deal with you right now.”

With that, he easily shoulders past Jeonghan. And he has half a mind to let Seungcheol go. Just say “who cares” and they’ll just drop it like they do every other argument. Rehash it a week from now when something similar happens.

But he’s too angry. All the work he put into this night, the waiting, the getting his hopes up for nothing -

“I’m not done talking about this,” he snaps.

Seungcheol stops halfway to the stairs but he doesn’t turn around. “You’re never done talking about it, Jeonghan. But guess what, not everything’s about you and I’m not gonna talk about this right now.”

If Jeonghan was in a better, clearer state of mind he’d catch onto the exhaustion in Seungcheol’s voice, the stress, the aching. He’s had a bad day and the last thing he needs is Jeonghan arguing with him and yelling at him. But that’s the issue: Jeonghan is always resolute in his anger. Stubbornly, righteously. He should let this go but -

“Then when _are_ we gonna talk about it? Because that’s what you always say, that you don’t want to do it now, we’ll do it later - “

“Maybe I’m sick and tired of arguing with you, Jeonghan. That’s all we do lately and - ”

“Then don’t come home four hours late!” he cries, like the solution to all of their problems is the most obvious thing in the world.

And maybe that makes him a hypocrite.

Seungcheol turns at this and for a brief moment Jeonghan regrets pushing things. Because the venom in Seungcheol’s gaze, the anger he finds there, is more than he’s ever seen. It reminds him of dream Seungcheol, laughing at him so cruelly. He crosses the room quickly and Jeonghan feels paralyzed. Heart pounding, blood thundering in his veins, he finds himself pressed against a wall. Finds himself staring down his husband’s cold, hard eyes. And even though they’re just about the same height he feels so small like this.

It’s a new feeling.

One he abhors.

Seungcheol has never made him feel like this before. Never in the almost thirty years they’ve known each other.

But he doesn’t speak. He just glares at Jeonghan, traps him between the wall and his body.

And then Seungcheol’s mouth is on his, hungry and insistent.

It’s been so long it’s been so long it’s been _so long -_

Jeonghan parts his lips on a surprised moan, one Seungcheol swallows eagerly, tongue sliding into his mouth. Strong hands come up and hold Jeonghan’s head when he tries to pull away, tries to ask just what the fuck is going on - but Jeonghan realizes what this is. What Seungcheol wants from him. He’s just not sure if he’s willing to give it, with the anger coursing through his veins.

So he shoves Seungcheol away, tasting him on his tongue and _fuck,_ he’s missed this. Missed getting lightheaded from a single kiss. Missed Seungcheol on him, around him, inside him. But not like this. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Voice rough, hard, he comes close again, reaches out and slips two fingers between Jeonghan’s choker and the sensitive skin of his neck. Tugs on it like he might break it. Jeonghan’s pulse stutters. So does his breath. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

He swallows. “I want you to stop walking away from me when we fight. I want you to do what I ask. I want - “

“Then punish me, Jeonghan.” The desire in his voice is electric and hard, and Jeonghan aches for him. Aches to just get lost in his husband, lost in the tangle of their hands and tongues and bodies. Lost in the heady, punitive lust Seungcheol is promising him until he forgets everything; until he forgets why he was even mad in the first place. “Show me just how upset you are.”

With a sound he’s never heard come from his own throat - it’s far too feral, far too desperate to truly belong to him - Jeonghan does. He surges forward and captures Seungcheol’s mouth in a rough, biting kiss. Pushes him hard enough against the nearest wall to rattle the pictures hanging there. And he shuts his mind off. Just focuses on the want, indignant and intoxicating, simmering in his veins. The static in his head. Seungcheol pressed against him, breathing hard through his nose, the coppery taste of blood between them as Jeonghan bites down on his husband’s plush lower lip. Tongues curling, hands roaming -

Seungcheol’s fingers rake through his hair mercilessly, tug on it as hard as he can, and Jeonghan breaks their kiss with a ragged moan as his head is jerked sharply to the side. Pain laces through his scalp, and a blistering heat tightens in his gut.

He’s never felt so wanted and so… so resented.

“S-Seungcheol,” he whines, as Cheol’s fingers once again slide between Jeonghan’s neck and the choker.

There’s a stinging _snap!_ of fabric against his throat and the gentle pressure of the choker is gone. Replaced by Seungcheol’s mouth biting and sucking kisses into his skin.

Fuck, Seungcheol’s been rough with him before but never like this. This… this isn’t desire. At least not wholly. This is rage and resentment making itself known in the only way they both can handle. This is months, maybe even years, of tension building to a boiling point, months of decay and entropy breaking them both down until this is it. Until there’s nothing left between them but this.

Seungcheol releases the vice grip he has on his hair as his hands slide down Jeonghan’s front, hot and promising. Eyes dark, touch severe, he grabs hold of each side of Jeonghan’s open collar and _pulls._

The shirt rips right down the buttons, and they clatter to the floor with a sound Jeonghan can’t make out over the pounding in his head. And then Seungcheol leans in again. Sinks his teeth into the juncture of Jeonghan’s neck and shoulder. Tightens his grip on his body the moment it goes slack, like he knows him. Like he knows exactly how Jeonghan responds to his touches.

Jeonghan cries out at the pain, the pleasure, and he’s slipping. He’s so tired of fighting, of demanding, of pushing Seungcheol and it never amounting to anything. So he gives in. Clings to his husband. Whines out a pleading, “Fuck me,” as Seungcheol’s tongue swipes over the bite mark he just left, skin stinging in its wake.

He won’t punish tonight.

He’ll just let Seungcheol use him any and every way he wants.

“Mm, you want me in you, baby?” Seungcheol whispers into his throat.

“Yes,” Jeonghan moans. “Please, Seungcheol.”

Somehow Seungcheol manages to carry him up the stairs, and they only break apart from rough, furious kisses to breathe. And then Seungcheol’s pressing him into the mattress, undressing him and himself with hurried hands. Marking up his chest, his abdomen, his thighs. At some point, feeling blunt teeth on his skin, Jeonghan pulls Seungcheol’s hair hard enough to make him groan. And then Seungcheol retaliates with a hard bite to his inner thigh, one that has Jeonghan hissing through his teeth. It becomes a vicious cycle - they scratch and bite and bleed until Seungcheol’s pushing two fingers in him without much lube and Jeonghan gasps, arching on the bed, knuckles white as he grips the sheets.

His body _aches_ in soreness - a part of him wants to stop. But the other part of him, the part that’s been missing Seungcheol and his touch and his kisses, begs himself to go on. If this is the only way his husband will have him now - he’ll take it. If this is the way to get to how they used to be, he’ll take it.

Over and over again.

“You’re so tight,” Seungcheol grunts. His fingers, thick and unforgiving, stroke along his inner walls, press against his prostate with the kind of expert touch that comes with years of monogamy. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

And for the briefest of moments, the air around them softens. Seungcheol’s eyes find his with muted desire, fingertips pressing slow, gentle circles directly on his prostate and Jeonghan isn’t going to last much longer - he feels so full, the heat in his gut, in his groin, tightens with each rotation of Seungcheol’s wrist - he wants to _come,_ wants to come with Seungcheol, with him inside him, around him - 

“I’m ready,” he breathes. “Fuck me, Seungcheol, please. I-I can’t - “

He whines at the loss of his fingers but then he feels Seungcheol’s cock against his entrance, hot and hard and thick.

Heart pounding, chest heaving, body slick with sweat and lube, precome leaking onto his stomach, Jeonghan closes his eyes. Tries to relax. Tries not to think about Seungcheol’s gaze earlier, about Seungcheol looking at him like that again while he fucks him -

A choked cry escapes his lips as Seungcheol pushes in roughly, burying himself in Jeonghan with one fluid movement. Fuck it burns, he feels like he might split with the way Seungcheol stretches him, but it’s so goddamn good. Better than it’s ever been. He’s so full, so achingly hard. And the pain blends dizzyingly with the want coursing through his veins, making him lightheaded and breathless.

And then Seungcheol wraps strong fingers around his throat.

There’s a moment where Jeonghan’s mind goes on high alert. They’ve never done this before - what if Seungcheol hurts him - and then he opens his eyes. His husband stares at him like a predator after his prey, dark and threatening, and Jeonghan feels it in his soul. In the way his heart seems to stop. No, this is definitely not just desire. But he _likes_ it. A shiver wracks its way through his body and he arches against the mattress, lungs already beginning to burn with the pressure on his windpipe.

“You look good like this, Hannie,” Seungcheol says, voice hard and almost mocking. “Bruised up, full of my cock. And you like it, don’t you? Little slut.”

Sharp, sudden anger builds like embers in Jeonghan’s body and without thinking he reaches up and slaps his husband across the face.

It’s a word that’s been off-limits since high school, when Jeonghan’s long hair made him the target of not so kind students, and Seungcheol knows this. He _knows_ this, yet he… yet he still said it. Still called Jeonghan it in their bed.

They regard each other for what feels like a lifetime, tears and black spots beginning to cloud Jeonghan’s gaze. A red spot starts to form on Seungcheol’s cheek. A part of Jeonghan, twisted and spiteful, hopes it bruises. That he has to look at himself in the mirror and be reminded of what he said. It’s the price to pay for his callousness, for his coldness. But, for a moment, he thinks he sees regret in Seungcheol’s eyes. Remorse.

He releases his grip on Jeonghan’s throat and Jeonghan coughs as he breathes in.

And then Seungcheol finally, _finally_ starts fucking him.

His pace is brutal, hands hard and bruising as they grip his hips. The sound of skin on skin is loud and lewd, mixing so well with Seungcheol’s deep, throaty groans as he takes his pleasure from Jeonghan’s body. And Jeonghan lays there, limp and aching, unable to do anything but cling to the damp sheets and beg Seungcheol to stop, to keep going. To have mercy. To punish him for deeds he would never take responsibility for because he’s too proud.

It’s a flaw they both share.

Seungcheol hits his prostate with every thrust and soon the fire burning in his body, flames licking at his skin, threatens to consume him. His sore, hurting body tightens and tightens until it’s too much it’s so much and the ball of heat in his gut snaps.

He spills, untouched, onto his stomach, as his orgasm rips a mangled cry from his throat.

And Seungcheol keeps going. His thrusts become more desperate, more erratic as he reaches his own climax - Jeonghan whines as his senses climb higher and higher towards overstimulation, the head of Seungcheol’s cock ramming against his prostate with every snap of his hips, static numbing his mind - and then Seungcheol stills with a sharp moan. Comes deep inside Jeonghan, warm and slick. And then he slumps against him, trapping Jeonghan between him and the mattress, and there’s nothing but their heavy breaths, Seungcheol’s softening cock still inside him. Seungcheol, heavy and hot. Trembling.

The tears come before Jeonghan can stop them, tearing up his throat with an urgency he can’t refuse. He sobs with his husband in him, body warm and sweaty and aching with bruises and bite marks and scratches. He sobs as Seungcheol holds him so close, presses him against his body in a way that feels strangely, upsettingly foreign, compared to the cruelty in his touch moments ago. He sobs over Seungcheol’s words of comfort, fingers tracing shapes into his burning skin, carding through his sweaty hair.

He hears him say sorry. Over and over again, Seungcheol apologizes.

But it’s not enough.

Eventually Jeonghan forces himself from his husband’s embrace and his tears almost start anew when he catches sight of the red, bruising mark on his face. The one Jeonghan gave him. But then Seungcheol’s kissing him with so much tenderness, hands shaking slightly as they cup his face.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Stop,” Jeonghan bites out. “Just - stop.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Why don’t we take a bath? We’ll - you know, we’ll drink some water. I can whip up some food, and - “

Jeonghan pulls away. Pushes himself out of the bed, and his entire body seizes up in protest. But Seungcheol’s there behind him, taking him in his arms so gently, murmuring kisses into his skin. It makes Jeonghan _sick._

“Seungcheol, no.”

He should’ve said it the moment Seungcheol kissed him. Before they came this far.

He lets go. Stays where he is as Jeonghan stumbles on weak legs into the bathroom.

Locking the door behind him.

On his way to run a bath, Jeonghan catches sight of himself in the mirror. Fuck, he’s a goddamn mess. Tangled hair, red, swollen lips, angry bite marks embedded in his skin, bruises on his throat, his chest - _everywhere._ Dark and purple, they stand out like a warning against his pale skin.

As if he didn’t already know that he is Seungcheol’s.

He sits in the tub until he’s shivering and it’s only then he gets out and dries off. At least now the soreness in his muscles is tolerable but his body still aches with what they’ve done.

When he makes his way back into the bedroom, Seungcheol is on his side, facing Jeonghan. Eyes closed, breathing slow and deep - he’s asleep. Or near it. With a light sigh Jeonghan slips under the covers beside him and immediately Seungcheol brings him closer, drops the softest of kisses along his shoulder.

Whispers, “I love you.”

The same words come to Jeonghan’s lips but then Seungcheol’s hold on him goes limp and Jeonghan can’t bring himself to say them.

Not with the bruise on his husband’s face staring him in the eye.

A reminder of what he did. Of what they both did.

Jeonghan turns onto his other side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so uh yeah i wasn't kidding when i said this was angsty lmao. but i hope their thoughts, feelings, and actions make sense and i hope it is understood that hate sex fixes absolutely nothing. in this au, jc are proud, desperate people refusing to admit what they need to to heal their relationship because neither of them wants to take the blame they both share. and maybe eventually it might end up being too late.
> 
> okay so anyway i hope you enjoyed this! feel free to leave a comment (though i am notoriously horrendous at responding to them) and a kudos. maybe follow me on [twt](https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy) or hit me up on [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy)! <3


	3. three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy jeonghan's birthday week, day six! aka today is THE DAY happy birthday bitch ily
> 
> and for all of you, here's angst to celebrate our lovely jeonghan's birthday :)))
> 
> oof i'm sorry it's been so long with this one! but i'm hoping i won't have to take another hiatus from it!
> 
> tw: minor wound/blood near the end of the chapter.
> 
> enjoy! <3

**three.**

_ Jeonghan’s never been more beautiful in all the time Seungcheol’s known him. _

_ And they’ve known each other almost twenty years at this point. Seungcheol’s seen him dressed up for graduations, date nights, outings with their friends, and even a few weddings. But none of those moments, those looks, have ever made Seungcheol’s heart ache like this. _

_ No, today Jeonghan looks like an angel and Seungcheol has no idea what he did to deserve someone so utterly perfect in his life. _

_ As his husband. _

_ “What are you looking at?” he finally asks with a blush on his cheeks, eyes shining in the peach-colored sunset, sweet lips stretched into a shy smile that squeezes his eyes shut and shows off the chip in his tooth. _

_ So beautiful. _

_ He nudges Seungcheol with a sweater-clad shoulder, because even though it’s June and they’re in Southern California he still manages to get cold. But it’s a good look on him; swimming in a sweater that stopped belonging to Seungcheol years ago, slacks rolled up to his shins, white button-down completely undone. Long blonde hair loose and tangling in the warm sea breeze, smiling so tenderly. _

_ Love in his eyes. _

_ There aren’t words to properly describe the sensation swelling in Seungcheol’s chest - not that he trusts himself to speak right now without breaking down anyway - so he just wraps his arms around Jeonghan’s slender waist and brings him close for a kiss. It’s soft and loving, much like the one they shared hours ago when they were wed, but Seungcheol knows it’s not enough to convey how he feels. To convey how precious Jeonghan is to him. _

_ There’s sand between their toes, the taste of the sea and the sun on their skin, love so deep and strong in their hearts that Seungcheol doesn’t know what to make of it. All he  _ does _ know is that he never wants this moment to end. He never wants to go back to Korea again, never wants to pretend like he’s not truly, ardently devoted to the boy - the man - before him again. Doesn’t want to pretend that he’s not Jeonghan’s in mind, heart, soul, and now name. _

_ He never wants to stop loving Jeonghan. _

_ Hell, he doesn’t think he ever could. _

_ “Take me home,” Jeonghan whispers against his lips, and it’s almost lost on the breeze. _

_ Seungcheol holds him tight, with no space between their bodies (just the way he wants). And he feels Jeonghan’s heart beating against his chest. He kisses him once more, this one deeper, firmer, stirring a different sort of heat in his body. One only Jeonghan has ever made him feel. “I bet I could make love to you here,” he murmurs, and he’s never been in love with his husband more than when he smiles again. “I’m sure there’s somewhere we could go where they wouldn’t see us…” _

_ “No thanks,” but his hands curl in the collar of Seungcheol’s shirt. The one Jeonghan had picked out for him for their high school graduation last year (it’s the nicest thing he owns. He remembers Jeonghan teasing him about it before they’d left for this trip - “Why are you wearing white to our wedding? You’re not a virgin…”). “I’d rather not get sand everywhere, thanks. Besides, that’s why we splurged on the fancy hotel room. So we should go and make the most of it. It’s our wedding night after all.” And with a wicked grin that makes Seungcheol’s stomach swoop hotly, he tacks on a, “Mr. Yoon.” _

_ Again, Seungcheol has no words so he just kisses Jeonghan again, hands sliding down to his ass, and he holds him as close as he can. _

_ But it’s still not enough. _

_ “I’m never gonna stop loving you, Hannie,” he whispers when they break the kiss. _

_ Jeonghan’s sweet face splits into a grin, those dumb, husky giggles of his like music to Seungcheol’s ears. He’s still blushing. “You’re so cheesy.” _

_ “But you love me.” _

_ “I do, Seungcheol,” he whispers. “Forever.” _

Something sharp and shrill rips Jeonghan from his sleep and with an arm sorer than it should be, than he’s used to, he reaches blindly towards his bedside table. And once his phone is in hand only then does he crack open an eye to answer the call.

Joshua’s name stares him in the face like some kind of cruel joke and he groans before swiping on the screen. “What?” His voice is  _ wrecked. _ Hoarse and cracking with sleep, thick and weak with tears he spent hours shedding last night.

And Joshua chuckles softly at the sound of it. “Long night?”

He glances next to him, at the snoring lump in bed, at the sharp red welt on his husband’s cheek, and swallows down the tears that threaten. And how does he explain it? How can he and Seungcheol face their best friend, their children, looking like this? With Seungcheol’s sin bright and marked on his cheek, with Jeonghan’s etched and bruised into his skin. How can they even begin to define, defend their actions last night, to people who would never understand?

How can they face their demons in the light of day, when ignoring them is all but impossible?

“You could say that,” Jeonghan whispers, watching the rise and fall of Seungcheol’s broad chest. “Shua, I… it wasn’t good.”

“Oh.” He hesitates for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Well, you know, that happens sometimes. I mean you’re both a bit stressed and - “

God, Jeonghan wishes that was the extent of their problems. Huffing a sigh he looks away from Seungcheol and instead finds the pile of discarded clothes. Wonders if he should even bother trying to save his shirt or just throw it away. “No, not that. I - we…” He runs a hand through his tangled hair as the words die on his tongue, as he registers what he’s about to tell Joshua. And he knows that, no matter how close he and Shua are, no matter how much Shua loves him - he just won’t understand. He’ll judge because of course he will - Jeonghan would too, so he can’t blame him there - but that is the last thing he needs.

So he sighs and closes off. “Honestly, I’m sure it’s because we were stressed. Do you want us to pick up the kids?”

“Nah, it’s okay, I can drop them off. I’m sorry your night didn’t go the way you wanted, Han.”

He remembers seeing red. Remembers white-hot pleasure and pain mixing in his gut, rising up and down his body with every bite, every bruise. Remembers being so consumed with emotions he could never voice out loud.

Most of all, Jeonghan remembers hating his husband. If only for a moment, a heartbeat, a breath.

“Me too,” he whispers.

After a few more pleasantries they end the call and Jeonghan just sits in bed and stares at nothing. Their children will be home within an hour, dropped off by one of their closest friends, and they need to  _ talk. _ But it’s the last thing Jeonghan wants to do. So he leaves the bed before Seungcheol can wake up, dragging his sore, languid body to the bathroom and locking the door behind him. He tries his best to clean up, to make himself presentable for when the kids get here: he untangles his hair and shaves in the shower, brushes his teeth, and then he gets into his makeup drawer. Except this time he pulls out the color corrector Joshua showed him how to use once and some foundation - and he gets to work.

A few hours left to their own devices have made some of the smaller, lighter bruises all but disappear but the thicker ones are still there and Jeonghan covers them up gently, as best he can. He winces as he does so, trying to just let his mind shut down so he doesn’t have to remember what -  _ who _ \- did this to him. And half an hour later, his hair starting to dry, he really doesn’t look half bad. Sure he’s still got dark circles under his eyes but the bruises look faded. And he can wear a turtleneck or something to cover up the ones on his throat.

He closes his eyes at the memory, Seungcheol’s big hand wrapped around his neck, nothing soft or intimate about his touch. He’d been looking to punish as much as Jeonghan had but he’d taken it too far, pushed too much.

Or had Jeonghan, yelling at Seungcheol the moment he’d walked in the door?

God, he feels like one of them is definitely to blame, that all of this is definitely someone’s fault, but he has no idea who and a part of him just wants to burrow in Seungcheol’s chest and put this behind them.

But they could never, no matter how hard they’d try: for they  _ both _ crossed lines that they can never come back from.

A knock on the door jolts him from his thoughts and with trembling fingers, he unlocks it.

Seungcheol stands on the other side, a mere few inches away but it feels like miles. He won’t - can’t? - look Jeonghan in the eyes. “Are you done?” he whispers, voice hoarse and cracking. “I need to shower.”

Jeonghan steps aside, far enough away that Seungcheol won’t accidentally brush against him. And he watches him with a weight settling in his heart. Watches him look in the mirror, eyes straying to the mark on his cheek, and he winces like Jeonghan slapped him again.

“What are we gonna tell the kids?” he whispers, staring at his tired, pale, bruised reflection, and Jeonghan takes some sort of sick satisfaction in the fact that they look similar. That Jeonghan punished as much as he wanted to. “What are we gonna tell Joshua and - “

“We’ll lie,” Jeonghan says without any emotion, any hurt or anger in his voice. Not after last night. No, now he just feels… numb. “And if they don’t believe it, I don’t care.”

Seungcheol sighs and turns his head to finally meet Jeonghan’s gaze. And when he speaks, the welt on his cheek moves too, as if mocking Jeonghan. “I’m sorry, Jeonghan. I - “

“You keep saying that, but I don’t think you actually mean it.”

That shuts him up; they regard each other silently, with an ocean of distance between them, an ocean neither of them is willing to cross. Jeonghan knows he would drown in it, for better or worse, the way he did last night. Lungs full of hurt and love and hatred, dragging him down into the depths of Seungcheol, into the depths of this broken fucking marriage and they can’t admit it -

Jeonghan leaves the bathroom without another word, slamming the door shut behind him.

When Joshua shows up with the kids, there’s nothing but shock and concern on their faces. Shock and concern Jeonghan decides to ignore, and Seungcheol seems to follow in his stead. At least that’s  _ one _ thing they can agree on. And for the most part, the day goes by fine. Homework is finished in a timely manner and then Jeonghan works on his lesson plans for the week. Chan and Seungkwan decide to spend their afternoon with him, either snuggled up next to him on the bed (after Jeonghan changed the sheets) or playing quietly with each other.

Jeonghan’s grateful for the company, grateful that his babies are so cuddly and well-behaved. And he clings to that the rest of the day - his love for his children. It gets him through an otherwise awkward dinner that Seungcheol cooked, ignoring his husband’s glances to focus instead on the myriad of stories the boys have from their night at Uncle Josh’s.

Jihoon stays quiet, eyes flicking between Jeonghan and Seungcheol with a disbelieving scrutiny Jeonghan really doesn’t care for. But he asks nothing, says nothing. Just watches.

When Jeonghan returns to their room that night, after putting Chan and Seungkwan to bed, he finds Seungcheol digging through their closet, pillow discarded at his feet. He steps out then, holding a couple blankets in his hands, and Jeonghan sighs.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight,” Seungcheol murmurs without turning around, shoulders heavy and tense under his t-shirt.

“Okay,” Jeonghan says. And as he moves towards their bed, he finds himself actually excited at the prospect of having the bed all to himself. He can stretch out and -

Seungcheol scoffs, pulling him out of his little fantasy. “What, you’re just not gonna say anything?”

He turns, and the thought that his husband looks so small, even pathetic like this, preparing to sleep on the couch, crosses his mind. It’s a cruel thought and usually Jeonghan would dismiss it, but… “What’s there to say, Seungcheol? I’m sorry you feel bad for what you did - “

“And you don’t?”

They’re stuck at this impasse and Jeonghan doesn’t know what to do. Hell, even if he  _ did _ know what to do there’s no guarantee he’d actually do it. Not when it’s just easier to stay like this. Stubborn. “You  _ hurt _ me, Seungcheol,” he bites out. “Put your hand on me like that without my consent. Called me a - a…”

“I know,” he says, and he actually sounds pained. Repentant. “Jeonghan, I’m sorry. But you do really think what I did gave you the right to - to hit me?”

In his heart, Jeonghan knows the answer is no. Of course not. He should never hit his husband for any reason, unless it’s in self-defense. Of course he knows that. But in the moment it felt as good as it’d been wrong. And he doesn’t know why. He’s  _ scared _ to know why. “No,” he whispers.

Honestly? He’s not sure that he’s sorry about it.

And he knows Seungcheol can see it in his eyes; he storms out without another word, bedroom door slamming shut behind him.

Jeonghan doesn’t sleep.

Seungcheol doesn’t talk to anyone as he makes his way through the office the next morning, ignoring all the pointed looks at the mark on his cheek. He glanced in the mirror earlier to find that it’s already starting to bruise, turn purple, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Maybe there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to cover it up. If he leaves it for anyone to look at, maybe they’ll ask about it, about home. Maybe he’ll be able to talk about his marriage, finally. Get some advice, or some “what the fuck is wrong with you, at least  _ try; _ he’s your husband”. But when Wonwoo attempts to give him that sometime around lunch, Seungcheol just ignores it. Asks him to leave his office and then closes the door behind him.

He wants pity. Not self-righteous thoughts from well-meaning people who don’t understand what’s going on.

He catches Taesoo’s gaze alone in the kitchen later. And Taesoo quietly digs through the freezer while Seungcheol waits for the coffee to finish brewing. A few moments later a small bag of ice is being pressed into his hands and he looks down into Taesoo’s soft eyes.

“It should help with the bruise,” he says quietly, looking at him with silent curiousity he’s too meek to actually voice.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol says in the same tone.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

A sigh escapes his lips as he presses the bag to his cheek, and it aches beneath the pressure. His heart aches too, remembering the indifference on Jeonghan’s face. How he’d cried into his pillow last night, breaking the silence in the living room with his sobs. “Nothing really happened,” he says now, forcing a smile onto his face. “My kid hit me accidentally. Got a bit too rowdy when we were playing.”

Taesoo laughs softly, moving the bag of ice with gentle fingers that are absolutely strange to Seungcheol’s skin. “He’s got quite the arm, then.”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes as Taesoo’s thumb strokes over the bruise, and his touch is tender; a lot more tender than Jeonghan’s has been lately. And that  _ hurts. _

Taesoo sighs a bit and draws away, putting the bag of ice back against his cheek. And he opens his mouth to say something but then one of their coworkers walks in and Taesoo clams up.

Seungcheol offers him a smile he hopes doesn’t look pained and then he heads back to his office.

He should be ready to villainize Jeonghan. Milk this slap for all it’s worth. But he cannot bring himself to do that. Of course he can’t; Jeonghan isn’t a bad person. He simply made a mistake, a mistake that was payment for Seungcheol’s own sins. They’re both as much to blame as the other, even if Jeonghan doesn’t… doesn’t feel sorry.

No, he’s not a bad person. Just… just not a good husband. At least not lately.

Of course, neither is Seungcheol.

Jeonghan spends his morning dreading seeing Mingyu. The bruises on his face were, again, fairly easy to cover up but with the weather that day a turtleneck was out of the question. And Jeonghan doesn’t really possess any work appropriate chokers. So he slathered some makeup on his throat and left the house hoping for the best. But halfway to school, Seungkwan had asked what the bruises on appa’s neck were.

And he pretty much figured Mingyu would react the same way. He just seemed like the sort.

Probably because he’s so similar to Seungcheol and Seungcheol used to freak out at any stray marks on Jeonghan’s skin.

Sure enough, when Mingyu walks in, he stops and frowns with narrowed eyes.

“Pardon me, sonsaengnim, but you don’t… you look weird,” he says.

Jeonghan sighs heavily from his desk, looking back at his laptop screen. “It’s nothing, Mingyu-yah. I’m - I’m fine.”

But apparently that’s not explanation enough; Mingyu walks over with his hands on his hips, as if he’s trying to look intimidating. And maybe it’d work if he didn’t have such a soft, worried look marring his face. It feels out of place for how new, how professional their relationship is. But that’s just Mingyu, he tells himself. Mingyu and his handsome brown eyes searching his face, his features, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

“You’re bruised,” he says softly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan responds in a voice that’s a lot more strained than he’d like. “Yeah, everything - everything’s fine. Promise.”

Mingyu sighs. “Everything doesn’t look fine. Did someone hurt you?”

It’s Jeonghan’s turn to sigh and he glances at his screen, but the words don’t register. Not with his mind so full right now he feels like he’s bursting at the seams. “I’m fine,” he says quietly. “How was your weekend?”

Mingyu looks at him the same way Jihoon had yesterday at dinner; like he doesn’t believe a single goddamn word coming out of Jeonghan’s mouth ight now. But Jeonghan isn’t going to talk about it with him. He isn’t going to talk about it with anyone. No, he’s going to do what they always do: shove it in the back of their minds and just leave it alone.

Like with everything, he’ll let it fester until it’s too much. Until it builds up like it did Saturday night, poisoning them both until there’s nothing left but rot.

Thinking about it will drive him crazy; trying to analyze his own thoughts and actions and behaviors will just stress him out more. It’s the last thing he needs.

Mingyu doesn’t look convinced but he talks anyway, setting Jeonghan’s coffee down in front of him.

By the time dinner rolls around, Jeonghan just feels numb. Going through the motions. Anything to keep him from thinking. Because once he starts down  _ that _ rabbithole…

Seungcheol’s home in time for dinner, which hasn’t happened in so long. But he seems the same as Jeonghan, only offering half-hearted smiles and replies when the kids try to engage him. It’s not a good sign, and when they end up alone together after dinner, doing dishes, Jeonghan’s heart pounds.

He’s nervous around his husband now. Nervous for what either of them might say, what it will lead to.

But they settle into a routine as easily as ever: Jeonghan cleans the dishes and Seungcheol dries and puts them away. And for a time, they don’t speak, the quiet between them broken only by the rush of water and the clinking of plates. It’s… it’s kind of nice. The way it used to be, when they could stand comfortable silences, and sometimes even thrived on them.

He remembers the way dishes  _ used _ to go, though. An “innocent” splash of water that eventually led to them kissing through giggles, shirts and hair soaking wet. They used to take over an hour this way, playing as much as they worked. But now it’s been maybe fifteen minutes and the dishes are all but finished.

This way, it’s more efficient.

Jeonghan sighs softly and reaches into the sink without looking, without really thinking. And his fingers wrap around something sharp and thin and it cuts his palm without warning. The pain burns, softly singeing his nerves, up his wrist and his fingertips. Wincing, Jeonghan drops the knife and lifts his hand out of the soapy water.

“You’re bleeding,” Seungcheol says.

Sure enough, the cut stretching along his palm drops red into the sink. And for a moment, Jeonghan looks at it. The blood gathers along the lines of his hand in a thin sheen, painting his skin crimson, and it falls to the sink silently. Pain, sharp and still burning, laces up his veins and he whines softly at it.

He’s such a baby when it comes to wounds, and blood.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Seungcheol huffs, pushing a clean handtowel into his palm. And he presses down to stop the blood. “Keep this here. I’ll go get you a bandage.”

Jeonghan does as he’s told, and while he waits he turns off the water and looks into the sink. The serrated edge of the steak knife is bright and slick with his blood; the bowl Seungcheol ate from tonight, standing by to be washed, has a few droplets in it. They slide through the leftover rice sticking to the bottom.

His stomach turns and for a moment, the room feels light. A bit on the spinny side.

“Cheol?” he calls, hearing the waver in his voice.

“I’m here, baby,” he says, and then there are strong arms wrapped around Jeonghan’s waist. A strong hand removing the towel, putting the bandage on, lifting Jeonghan’s own hand towards the faucet.

He leans back against Seungcheol as he gently cleans the blood from his skin, underneath a stream of cool water. And for the first time all day, Jeonghan actually feels something other than numb.

Fondness.

He inhales slowly, melting in the scent of Seungcheol’s warm, earthy cologne around him, and it’s honestly amazing how sometimes Seungcheol’s mere presence can just calm him down. Like it used to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Seungcheol whispers as he pats Jeonghan’s hand dry with the clean part of the towel. “Woozy, lightheaded?”

“A little bit,” he whispers back, and Seungcheol’s arms tighten around him just a bit. Grounding him. Jeonghan wonders if it just comes natural this point, after almost thirty years of doing so. “Is it - does it look bad?”

“No. I imagine it’ll heal on its own, but let me know if you feel sick okay? We’ll take you to the hospital.”

Jeonghan sighs softly and turns around to rest his head against his husband’s shoulder. He’s so  _ tired, _ in his bones, his soul, his heart. But everything about Seungcheol is so familiar, so soothing. And for a moment, he can pretend everything’s all right and normal between them. He can bask in Seungcheol’s love without feeling guilty or nervous that one of them might snap. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Hannie,” he murmurs, stroking over the bandage with a slow, soft thumb, lips brushing his temple in a lazy flurry of kisses.

For this moment, this single, simple moment, nothing has changed. They’re still the same dumb kids they were over a decade ago, so in love they didn’t know what to do with it. But then Jeonghan breathes in and tilts his head to look up at Seungcheol - and he’s greeted by the purpling bruise on his cheek. The moment is gone and he realizes that  _ everything _ has changed. That this is the kindest they’ve been to each other in… god knows how long. That if he hadn’t hurt himself, Seungcheol wouldn’t be holding him like this.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a pressure in his throat that makes it hard to breathe, to speak. It brings tears to his eyes and Seungcheol shushes him gently. “I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have… hit you. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m… I’m not mad anymore,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

Jeonghan sighs and reaches up to bring his bandaged hand to Seungcheol’s face. And this time he’s nothing but delicate, touching the mark with trembling fingertips, swallowing against the guilt that tries to strangle him. “Does it still hurt?”

“No.” He presses a kiss to Jeonghan’s forehead. “Let’s go upstairs; dishes can wait till tomorrow. You need to rest.”

So Jeonghan goes with him, holding to the steady hands Seungcheol puts on his body. They feel intimate, burning through his clothes with a heat Jeonghan knows well. One he’s looked to for comfort and love and validation so many times before. One he can lose himself in, easily. Fuck, everything in his mind feels hazy right now but it’s a good kind of haze.

He’s happy, he thinks. Content, at least.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he whispers into the quiet of their bedroom as Seungcheol flicks on the light. “You haven’t been here for dinner in - “

“Three weeks,” he finishes.

Jeonghan leans against him, allowing himself to be led to their bed. “Well, thank you for being here.”

Slowly, Seungcheol helps him undress, then he helps him under the covers. And Jeonghan lets him. He lets Seungcheol take care of him; he lets his guard down.

The kiss they share before falling asleep that night is soft, warm, hopeful.

Jeonghan falls asleep feeling lighter than he has in months. He just hopes it’ll last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see there's hope yet,,,,, they might end up happy,,,,, maybe,,,,,

**Author's Note:**

> [twt](https://twitter.com/scoups__ahoy) | [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/scoups__ahoy) | [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/serenawrites)!


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